


Caesar Salad With A Side Of Swamp Soup

by CorndogsDie



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Crack, Gen, Global Warming, Mentions of lukewarm tea, Mormonism, Piggy's real name is revealed, Roger is the King of Sicily, Short One Shot, UNO™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorndogsDie/pseuds/CorndogsDie
Summary: “I know what you’re up to lad, poor little Al told me all about the dangers of global warming years back.  It was manbearpig that killed him, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?“ “N-no, actually, we have reason to believe that it may have been Roger Hauteville.” “The King of Sicily?”“Yes, he was one of the boys found on the island.”“The King of Sicily is manbearpig…”“Mrs. Gore, manbearpig isn’t re-““GET OUT OF MY SWAMP.”
A beautiful story about human flaws, friendship and betrayal.
(After the events on the island)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was an epilogue I handed in as an assignment, needless to say the teacher was not impressed. I regret nothing.

“Mrs. Gore, may I come in? I have some urgent information regarding your nephew Albert.”   
The lanky man standing in the doorway was nervous, but on the surface he was calm and ready. Pauline moved out of the way without a word to let him through, her face stoic. “O-Oh dear, why don’t you take a seat?” she suggested shaking slightly with each word, anticipating the dreaded message. The man in black uniform removed his hat deliberately before shaking his head. “I’m afraid he didn’t make it.” Her eyes widened with shock as she stumbled into the kitchen, knocking over several houseplants on the way before heating up last night’s leftover alphabetti spaghetti sprinkled with cheddar and rushing over to the living room, slamming it onto the coffee table with pent up frustration. “I, uh, better get going now Mrs. Gore.” He chose his words carefully, getting up slowly and reaching for his baton with his left hand. “No, stay.” Her pleasant disposition had all but disappeared. “I know what you’re up to lad, poor little Al told me all about the dangers of global warming years back. It was manbearpig that killed him, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?“   
“N-no, actually, we have reason to believe that it may have been Roger Hauteville.”   
“The King of Sicily?”  
“Yes, he was one of the boys found on the island.”  
“The King of Sicily is manbearpig…”  
“Mrs. Gore, manbearpig isn’t re-“  
“GET OUT OF MY SWAMP.”  
“Swamp? Earlier on I spotted a man with red hair in a swamp. He was … pushing something …with force… under the water… I’ll be right back”   
The officer slurped up his alphabet spaghetti quickly not to be rude, grabbed his hat and ran out the door.

“Dammi Jah, ahm thi o yer bluthi merwis tehnentheeth!” *  
“HAHA! CAN YOU SAY THAT AGAIN RALPH? I DIDN’T HEAR YOU.”   
“Fuh yu!” **  
The dancing bubbles rising to the surface slowly began to subside and Jack smirked with satisfaction. He had finally erased the annoying existence known as Ralph.  
“Freeze. Come out of the swamp with your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for attempted murder. Anything you say or do, can and will be held against you.”  
“Big, fat titties.”   
The police officer gave the man a look of disdain before locking the redhead in handcuffs.  
“Wait, hang on did you just say attempted murder? I thought I killed Ralph.”  
“Explain how he’s standing up then.”  
Jack’s head spun around fast enough to give him whiplash.   
“Hi Jack.”  
“How are you alive?”  
“I’m not and kind of need something from you.”  
Ralph shifted from foot to foot, he was anxious to get rid of the gunk inside of his shoes. Soggy socks were ought to be the worst feeling out there. Jack let out a sigh and hesitantly spoke.  
“Alright, what do you need?”  
“I’m gonna need about tree fiddy.”  
“Dammit Loch Ness monster, I aint got no tree fiddy.”  
“Sorry, I’m lost. What’s happening right now?” The officer temporarily let go of his grip on Jack out of shock. The sudden change of behavior was unexpected,  
“Ralph has been possessed by the Loch Ness monster.”   
“Oh, okay. That makes sense. I’m going to have to arrest you for murder then.”   
Ralph lost his footing and slipped, making his left shoe fling off his foot and hit the officer square in the jaw.  
“It’s not murder if I was already dead inside.”   
Jack took advantage of the situation and slipped away into the clearing. The law enforcer pulled out his radio and spoke into it, giving a concise description of the situation.   
“Don’t worry, he won’t be getting too far with handcuffs restraining him and the dogs on his trail”   
Ralph furrowed his brows.  
“Sir, I think you’re underestimating Jack.”  
The officer gave a loud booming laugh that made the tip of nose jiggle in an endearing manner.  
“Don’t worry kid, it’ll be fine.”   
“If you say so…”

Pauline paced around in her house, urgently scheming a plan to take down the King of Sicily.   
“Manbearpig must be stopped at all costs. Assassination? No, that seems a bit extreme. I just need to get him out of power somehow…” She stopped still in her tracks “I could kidnap him and replace him with a lookalike.” Quickly she dismissed the idea with a loose gesture of her right hand. “No, that’s too difficult. I wouldn’t be able to do that alone and where would I get the money for the train fare?”

Frustrated and out of ideas, Pauline switched on the television and collapsed onto her armchair, watching the static move from top to bottom in an endless loop, listening to the indistinct dialogue.   
A man seemed to be standing in front of a large bowl with two similar looking individuals.  
“And what have we got here folks?”   
“The world’s largest Caesar salad.”   
They spoke together in synchronisation, not missing a beat.   
“And it certainly is large isn’t it? Tell me, what influenced both of you to make this?”  
“We had a friend called Simon, he would’ve loved this giant salad. We also had this other friend. We called him Piggy but his name was Albert… let’s just say he could’ve used a salad or two.”  
Pauline shot up from her seat enraged “What are you two imbeciles implying?”   
“How admirable. What will the money be spent on?”  
“We’ll just sent it to our friends’ families. They deserve it after going through such torment.”  
“Well that’s the train ticket fee dealt with, although, I say, television programs nowadays are lackluster to say the least.”

The vague sound of creaking floorboards resounded from the hallway, disturbing her rest. Pauline slowly got up holding her spare assault rifle, prepared to defend herself from the intruder. Years of practice against carbon dioxide had readied her for this moment. As she neared the hallway, her stomach tightened with anticipation and her grip grew stronger, however what she saw was not manbearpig but a lad with pale blond hair.   
“I’m gonna need about tree fiddy.”  
Sighing she gestured using her gun for him to come into the living room.

“Simon, are you coming to our church service today?”   
“We’re on our way right now and I don’t really have a choice, do I?”  
Jack had somehow ended up in Utah after sneaking into the luggage compartment of an aeroplane. In order to blend in he had to use an alias and upon arrival he realised that not being Mormon made him stand out too much. It kind of sucked.   
“Haha, not really. Do you want to join my wife and I to play board games whilst reading passages from ‘the book of Mormon’ afterwards?”   
“Not today, Bryetan. Oh, by the way your tie is slightly askew.”   
Bryetan quickly fixed his tie using the reflection of the shop window nearby as his eyes drifted towards the newspaper headline of display, ‘King of Sicily orders the death of all Mormons.’  
“We need to go into hiding.”  
Jack gave him a look of confusion and stepped closer to read the newspaper before his eyes set ablaze with flames from the fiery pits of hell.  
“I’m going to bloody murder Roger.”  
Bryetan coughed awkwardly in an attempt to gain his attention.  
“… After the board games, or?”

“PICK UP FOUR BITCH!”   
“Mummy, daddy said a naughty word.”  
“Shhhh, not now sweetie, mummy needs to SHUT DOWN a motherfucker. PICK UP FOUR!”  
Jack gingerly picked up eight cards. He nearly had the game, dammit.  
“SNAP!”  
“Jimmy, you useless child. Why do we even feed you?”  
Jack started to wonder if Bryetan’s family were really Mormons. It wouldn’t be that much of a surprise; after all, the one of the top dogs of the Italian mafia did raise the guy. Italian. Roger was the King of Sicily. Roger wanted to kill all the Mormons. Right, he should probably get on with stopping him.   
“Simon, it’s yur turn ya fookin’ twat.”   
He’d stop Roger after winning UNOTM. 

Ralph studied the hastily written contract in front of him before looking up to meet Pauline’s eyes.  
“So what you’re saying is that if I manage to get Roger out of power, I’ll get tree fiddy?”  
She put down her mug of hot tea carefully and pulled out a white envelope from her breast pocket.  
“Oh, you’ll get more than three fifty. Mark my words, if he dies you’ll get this entire envelope, I just want to know why you came here of all places and how on earth you managed to break in.”   
“I heard that you got money from Sam and Eric and there was a spare key under the doormat.”  
“No there wasn’t, there was just a framed photograph of a miniature horse and we still need another accomplice in order for everything to go according to plan.”  
“I don’t see your point.”  
Pauline banged her head repeatedly against the table. The sooner this was all over, the better. Her tea was now lukewarm and she was near her breaking point. Exasperated, she spoke up.  
“Let’s just leave for Sicily right now.” 

The journey was long, tiresome and emotionally draining for Pauline. Ralph bounced from carriage to carriage engaging with strangers in games of checkers and exciting tales of toast making, however he ended up getting kicked off somewhere in Rome after offending everyone by saying, ‘Mama mia! That’s a spicy meatball-a!’ to the Italian train conductor’s family. 

When Pauline finally arrived in Sicily, she got to work promptly, researching the best vantage point and the optimal time to bypass the King’s security until the day of the operation came to be. Ralph was far away and her setup was perfect with no flaws in sight. She focused her dominant eye on the figure through the window and prepared herself to press the trigger. A shot rang out and the bullet embedded itself into Roger’s head. Manbearpig was dead, but she hadn’t been the one to shoot, there wasn’t any recoil. Frantically she looked around until she spotted the man with red hair holding a gun. No. This wasn’t how it was meant to end. This was meant to be her justice for Albert. How DARE this moment get taken away from her. She redirected the rifle at him and opened fire. In an instant handcuffs restrained her wrists.   
“Merde. Signora you’re going to prison for the murder of Jack Merridew.”  
“You can’t do this to me, where’s Ralph?”  
“Ralph?”  
“She’s delusional, stop entertaining her fantasies.”  
“The blond lad traveling with me. Where is he?”   
“His body was found in Rome. Stop talking and get in the car.”  
“No. NO.”  
The officers forced her into the car with vigor as she broke down in tears.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations for the poor lil' drowning boy  
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> *Dammit Jack, I'm sick of your bloody murderous tendencies   
> **Fuck you!
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, Ralph got an exorcism by Bryetan when he was in Rome, that's why he was just a corpse.   
> (I'm just bullshitting my way through this, aren't I?)


End file.
